tuckova

For a non-atheist to see and enjoy "The Golden Compass" is the same as
for a non-Christian to see and enjoy "The Lion, the Witch, and the
Wardrobe". The Chronicles of Narnia are tasty and His Dark Materials
are also delicious; beautiful movies are always worth seeing; also, and most
importantly,  ideas can’t hurt you*. Let’s hug it out, shall we?

*banned in my house: anything that features more cussing than
I can produce when I bang my head on a sharp corner; anything that
features more violence than I can produce in a chili-fueled nightmare;
anything that utterly lacks redemption.

Onward, then:

Squire said he felt crappy on Monday but
I persuaded him to go to school, because I thought he was actually
nervous that kids would tease him about his hair, which a couple kids did,
and which was not that big of a deal, since we’d discussed all manner
of potential insults and: whatever, he looks awesome. Tuesday they were
going to see a documentary about Nicholas Winton, which he wanted to
see, so even though he said he didn’t feel a scrap better, he went.
Wednesday morning his temp was 39.5 and so here we are, with a kid
parked on the couch. He’s fairly easy to take care of: he reads and
generally stays covered up and tries to drink delicious tea because he
is a good patient, and takes his temperature every 30 minutes that he’s
awake because he is my son.

So anyway, he’s home for a few days, delighting me to bits and also
probably getting me sick by means of being so sweetly warm and in need
of forehead kisses. We burrow under blankets and watch movies.
Yesterday we watched a movie in which a character evaluates a song by
saying, "Well… I’m tone deaf"; Squire nearly broke his head open
laughing, and then asked me quite seriously, "Wait, what’s tone deaf?"
which nearly broke my head open. Which is when I realized that I was
not feeling a hundred percent.

If you are ever inclined to fill out an "ideal partner" form, in which you are given choices like "good looking" or "sense of humor" or
"likes to dance" or whatever, I will tell you that you need to
have one box checked and that box is: can take care of me when I am
sick. Because I’m telling you, you can get your sense of humor ticket
punched in a dozen places and your non-dancing partner is not going to
mind your going out dancing with your easy-to-find dancing friends, but
it’s hard to find a friend who will come over and make you chicken soup
or bring over a giant packet of soft tissue paper for you or stock up
on spices to help you breathe again and stuff, much less one who will
live with you while you are miserable and ugly. "Sense of humor", HA.

One time in Southern California I got the ‘flu so bad that my
mother actually flew down to take care of me and we still didn’t
realize I should have dumped that guy.

Anyway, my point was
going to be that last night Squire was having a feverish bout of guilt
that I might get sick from caring for him, and I told him that was okay
because it was my duty and privilege etc to take care of him and this
is parenting and it’s actually fun to take care of him because he gets
sick so rarely etc and that anyway if I got sick Friar would totally
take care of me. Which he will. Which is something I’m not used to
knowing, and so even though our relationship was pretty much cemented 5
years ago when he made me four different dishes to tempt me after a
particularly nasty stomach… thing… still, it surprises and delights
me to find that I am cared for, and even more so that I am becoming
accustomed to being cared for.

I know: Awww.

Anyway. A bit woozy. Probably no cottage this weekend; probably movies
that I’ll get to pick, and possibly I’ll even be read to. Sweet!